Ukraine's best pop music
I think we could all use an at-home dance party or two right now.
Well, do I have the playlist for you.
While there are many reasons I fell in love with dance — the people you meet, the places you travel to, the dance steps you learn — music is what really set the hook for my interest in Ukrainian dance, and therefore my love of Ukrainian culture.
Specifically, I can credit the band Zrada for this love. Years ago, my godmother gave me an album by Zrada, a Ukrainian folk-punk band from Winnipeg, and I remember thinking, “Oh, so celebrating culture can be cool.” Not that I ever thought it was totally uncool to dance, but seeing young people be inspired by their Ukrainian heritage definitely inspired me too.
There’s of course a wide range of Ukrainian music accessible today, from traditional songs to more modern ones. And while I love a classic polka tune as much as the next Ukrainian, there are many pop artists from Ukraine worth celebrating.
Some of these musicians were recommended by pals in Ukraine. Some I heard on the dance floor during a night out on the town. Some I saw perform at an over-the-top Ukrainian concert. And some I learned about more recently when I wrote for What’s On Kyiv.
This isn’t a list of absolutely every single Ukrainian artist I love, but it should be a good starter list to get you through those aforementioned dance parties.
So put on your fanciest slippers, pull back your hair from your face, crank the volume up, and prepare to have your mood boosted.
Alina Pash
Toss together electronica and hip-hop with some Ukrainian folk influences, and you’ve got yourself a song by Alina Pash. Her songs are inspired by Ukrainian traditions, and specifically those from the Carpathian Mountains — Pash was born in Bushtyno in Zakarpattia Oblast. And each song has so much more meaning than you’d guess by just listening to the lyrics.
Watch the short film Pintea by Pasika magazine to learn a bit more about the stories behind some of her songs. For example, in the video Pash talks about how she was healed from a curse put on her as a baby and about some history of the folk hero Pintea.
Alyona Alyona
The song that put Alyona Alyona on Ukraine’s radar was about fish. Alyona Alyona clearly isn’t your typical rapper.
Besides stories of fish, the kindergarten turned rapper sings about body inclusivity, bullying, and moving away from home. Some songs are humourous, while others are deep and relatable.
In an interview with Vogue, she said that at a time, she rapped in Russian, since that’s what her friends were speaking in and listening to. But she eventually went back to her language roots, rapping in Ukrainian.
Like so many other Ukrainian artists, her music videos are intriguing, original, and sort of ridiculous. And that’s what makes them oh-so entertaining.
Balaklava Blues
Marichka Marczyk — what a voice.
You may recognize Mark and Marichka from Lemon Bucket Orkestra, the “balkan-klezmer-gypsy-party-punk-super-band” as they describe it. The two met during Ukraine’s Euromaidan, or Revolution of Dignity, in 2014.
Marichka is an ethnomusicologist from Ukraine but now lives in Canada, which is where Mark is from. While in Ukraine, she toured around the country to document folk music traditions, and you can hear lots of these influences in Balaklava Blues’ songs.
If you’re looking for a new pandemic hobby, might I suggest learning the ancient singing techniques of Ukraine. You can learn from Marichka herself on YouTube.
Fo Sho
Three sisters make up Fo Sho, an Afro-Ukrainian hip-hop band. Their parents moved to Ukraine from Ethiopia in the 80s for medical school. They ended up staying in Ukraine, where they raised their family, sharing with them Ethiopian traditions, like making injera (sour flatbread) and roasting coffee beans, as the sisters told the Kyiv Post in this article.
This past year, Fo Sho competed in Vidbir, the qualifier for Ukrainian artists to go on to Eurovision. While the band didn’t make it into the final round, Fo Sho made their mark with their powerful lyrics and beats.
Go-A
From the first note of the sopilka, to lead singer Kateryna Pavlenko’s captivating білий голос (white voice, sometimes called open voice) style of singing, to the sparks shooting out of the guitar, it’s no wonder this performance of “Solovey” earned Go_A a spot to represent Ukraine in Eurovision 2020 (which was cancelled due to the pandemic).
I remember the director of the Volyn ensemble posted on Facebook how he could feel ancient energy, the energy of his people, in this performance, which I think is such a beautiful — and accurate — way to describe this song.
If you want to hear a bit more of a polished version of this song, listen to the recorded version here.
Ivan Navi
I am not one for pop music — North American pop music, that is. I’ve never been into the top 40 radio stations or keeping up with the latest chart toppers. But all that changed in Ukraine, and I sure am thankful for that.
I wanted to know, I needed to know, every song played on a night out, whether that was at a club or overheard on someone’s speaker at a park. I had a few go-to playlists I’d check out on Spotify, ones that people would update with the latest and the greatest in Ukraine. One of those featured artists was Ivan Navi.
But it wasn’t until the end of May 2018 that I really started to appreciate his music, or really even take note of his name. My friends and I took a train ride out to Lviv from Poltava for a DZIDZIO concert, and Ivan Navi (and about seven other acts) opened for the band. When Ivan came on stage and I found myself shouting out a lyric or two, I realized I had heard him before, thanks to my beloved top 40 Ukrainian playlists.
What I love most about Ivan Navi, besides his catchy tunes, is how deep and meaningful some of his lyrics are, which you don’t always get in a typical pop song. His lyrics aren’t just random words strung together to make a memorable chorus – they are poetry, sometimes shown throughout an entire song or just in a couple words.
In his song “Такі молоді,” he sings (in Ukrainian):
“We confused the days and nights. Every day was a weekend. We were happy, despite we had nothing, nothing. Everyone knew everything, and it didn’t matter anymore where the night would bring us. We danced all night long, shoulder to shoulder. And the music, the lights, and the time flew by in an instant, unnoticed. But we didn't stop. We just couldn’t.”
Maybe this stood out to me because I could relate. Maybe all pop songs are this meaningful but I just haven’t given them a chance. Or maybe it’s just a Ukraine thing.
In any case, Ivan Navi’s songs for whatever reason became so grounding for me — I to this day still listen to his songs on repeat, putting me in almost a trance, if I need to tackle nerves, like before an interview.
Three more Ivan Navi fun facts: 1) A friend in Lviv went to college with Ivan. 2) I ran into Ivan with said friend on the streets of Lviv a couple days before I flew back to Canada, and I shook his hand and tried to sputter out words in my starstruck state. 3) It took my friends and I way too long to realize Navi is Ivan spelled backwards.
Joryj Kłoc
My friends and I once managed to get ourselves into a sold out Joryj Kłoc show in Lutsk, at a pub one parking lot away from one of our apartments, after getting special access thanks to none other than the band’s manager and none other than Kyrylo from Cobblestone Freeway Tours.
It was a roller coaster of a night, from feeling defeated after learning we missed our chance at the show, to peeling ourselves off the couch/bed to make a final attempt at getting non-existent tickets, to taking selfies with the band and one of us getting the shirt off a band member’s back since they had no merch for us to buy.
It ranks at one of the top shows I’ve ever been to at one of the best venues — a small, crowded bar with tables in mini ships, with a stage that had us in arm’s length of the band. It was also an anniversary celebration for the pub, so we were welcomed with free shots, adding to the already stand-out night.
I learned about Joryj Kłoc when I was in Ukraine for my first time in 2014. I was there with my mom and her cousin. We were browsing a music shop in Lviv, and I was grabbing a few CDs, choosing ones based solely on album cover design, and one happened to be by Joryj Kłoc. When I went to pay for my selection, the guy working at the store commented specifically on Joryj Kłoc’s album, saying he was happy I was buying it because they are one of his favourite bands, and they quickly became one of mine.
Joryj Kłoc incorporates lots of folklore into their songs, plus the group uses some traditional Ukrainian instruments, like the lira.
Over the last year or so, the band seems to be doing a bit of a marketing revamp — for a time, all their social media accounts were down, but they’re back at it, releasing new music too (I can’t get enough of this song). Their past albums are harder to come by online now, but they seem to be posting some songs to YouTube and SoundCloud.
Also, if you’ve ever checked out an episode of Vsi, the Ukrainian dance and culture podcast, then you would have heard Joryj Kłoc’s song “Poltavśkyj Sotnyk” in the intro! The band was kind enough to give us permission to use a clip of it, and gosh, the podcast wouldn’t be the same without it.
Kalush
Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a Ukrainian rapper, even though I can’t speak the language fluently. Kalush is one of those artists I like to try to rap along with.
Seeing as I usually make up lyrics to songs I supposedly know well even in English, not being able to speak Ukrainian, especially not in the dialect Kalush sings in, doesn’t really faze me. (On my drives out to my family’s cottage this summer, I would listen to solely “Tipok” just so I could get the rhythm to make it sound like (to non-Ukrainian speakers) that I knew all the lyrics. I’m proud to say it worked.)
People not interested in rap or hip-hop can still find Kalush fascinating. You at least need to watch a video or two to see CarpetMan in action — a character in the band who represents the “image of the musical spirit of Ukraine,” according to the band. Even if you have had no interest in Ukrainian music before, you may get a kick out of Kalush — a couple of my friends played this song at their non-Ukrainian wedding this summer, and let me tell ya, the dance floor filled up fast.
Onuka
Nata Zhyzhchenko, the lead singer of Onuka, learned about Ukrainian folk music from her grandfather, which is the inspiration behind the band’s name (onuka means granddaughter in Ukrainian). Just like with Go_A and other bands that mesh together traditional music with modern, you can hear the Ukrainian ancient energy influencing the band’s sound.
Listen to the above video starting at 3:15 to hear a standout song of the band — “Vidlik,” which appears on the EP of the same name. Vidlik means countdown, referring to the Chornobyl disaster, a theme behind the entire EP.
I had the chance to see Onuka perform live at the Leopolis Jazz Fest in Lviv, where I, along with thousands of Ukrainians, witnessed the band’s mesmerizing performance as we all bopped along to the beat of the buhai and the honk of the trembita.
Yuko
Traditional songs collected by folklorists and EDM combined into one? Sign me up.
Yulia Yarina, who makes up the band along with Stas Koroliov, has also gone on expeditions to learn folk songs from Ukrainian villages, which the band presents in a fresh, modern way while remaining authentic. Yuko is yet another band of Vidbir, having made it to the finals in 2019.
I’m dreaming of the day we can all be reunited, jamming to the best of the best. (After all this time apart, I imagine the next Canada’s National Ukrainian Festival in Dauphin is going to be pretty darn legendary.)
Until then, solo dance parties it is.